


Diary of a SHIELD Agent

by aggiepuff



Series: Empath [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Also on Tumblr, Character Mentions, Empath, F/M, Mentions of past abuse, Mentions of past child abuse, Mutants, Slow Build, diary-style fic, lots of mutants, more about my OC and her life than anything, sorry - Freeform, updated irregularly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:44:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 9,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2734751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aggiepuff/pseuds/aggiepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hello. My name is Callie Marks. I'm an Empath mutant working for SHIELD as an administrative agent. This is my diary. If you haven't filled out your SHIELD NDA's you really shouldn't be reading this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1

 

**Day 1**

I first came to the SHIELD Helicarrier when I was 18, a recent graduate of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. It was also the first time I had been around so many people since I was 14. I had to work hard to ignore all the emotions swirling around. There were so many of them. Anxiety, excitement, joy, fierce satisfaction. It took almost all of my concentration to keep from being overwhelmed. Everywhere Agents scurried, battening down hatches, yelling orders. It was chaos, but the organized kind much like the activity around an anthill that has all the workers doing their jobs.

I, along with my fellow new recruits, followed our training officer, a man by the name of Agent John Smith (and yes, that really is his name; all through basic training I'd had to resist the urge to check him for a sonic screwdriver), as he lead us through a door, down several halls, and finally to a large conference room where he directed us to take a seat. I sat myself at the very back of the room, my back to a wall so no one could sneak up on me. It was an old habit left over from Xavier's when I never knew if one of my classmates might decide to sneak up on me.

Once we were all settled Agent Smith began to explain what the Helicarrier was and all the official stuff. I tried to pay attention, I really did, but honestly a lot of it was a whole bunch of technical jargon and I ended up zoning out repeatedly. When he was finally done another Agent had appeared and handed him a stack of folders which he began to pass out. Apparently the folders, complete with the very official SHIELD-stamp of official-ness, were our new assignments. He went around the room dispensing his very official folders and one by one my fellow recruits filed out of the room until only I remained. He glared at me as if it was my fault his hands were now folder free. I waited, chewing my lip nervously. I'd learned during my year of basic training with the sharp tongued old man that it was better to wait to hear what he had to say than ask. Mostly because asking pissed him off and I'm pretty sure he could beat Wolverine in the scary department.

Finally he growled out, "The Director wants to speak with you personally Probie."

Well fuck. Fury wanted to speak with me personally? What the hell? I'd barely been on his Treasure Planet-style airship of doom for thirty minutes! What could I have possibly done to get his attention already?

I nodded but didn't try to speak. My mouth had gone unreasonably dry. Agent Smith grunted and left with one last disdainful look at me over his shoulder. Honestly I don't know why anyone let him train the newbies. I'm pretty sure he hated us. Maybe someone thought it'd be funny to let him terrorize the new recruits?

I tried to wait patiently. I mentally stretched my senses, seeing if I could count how many people were onboard the Helicarrier. I nearly gave myself a panic attack. One minute I was just barely brushing against the sense of pride someone just down was feeling over a job well done and the next I knew every emotion of everyone on the whole ship. There was a woman lusting after someone three decks below, a man on the starboard side was pissed off, a scientist in one of the labs was smug about some experiment.

I fought to catch my breath, slamming the walls down, refocusing on me, just me. My first gasp for air was shaky. Being overwhelmed like that—it hadn't happened in such a long time.

I had barely managed to regain control of myself when into the conference room stalked the Dread Pirate Fury. I’m not even joking. The man was wearing all black and had an eye patch of all things. Seriously? Who the hell wears an eye patch?

He glared at me and I sat a little straighter in my chair. With my walls up I couldn’t really tell what he was feeling but so far Fury was definitely living up to his name.

“Probationary Agent Marks,” he barked like the drill sergeant he’d probably been in a former life.

I jumped to my feet because, hello, I’m not stupid and this man was scary as fuck. “Yessir!”

He looked me up and down and snorted. “You went to Xavier’s school?”

I stood a little straighter, eying him warily. “Yes, sir.”

“What’s your mutation?”

I bit my lip. My mutation isn’t something I talk about usually. As it’s entirely psychokinetic I’d kind of hoped to keep it to myself unless absolutely necessary but I guess my new boss had other plans.

“Well?” Fury snapped irritably. “I don’t have all day!”

“I’m an Empath, sir,” I answered. Then added by way of explanation, “I sense emotions.”

Fury glared at me for a few more minutes then whirled, black duster swirling behind him like some badass cloak, and strode from the room, leaving me standing there without so much as a backwards glance.

What the hell?


	2. Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its my second day on the SHIELD Helicarrier and after that weirdness with Director Fury I kind of wish I was anywhere else.

**Day 2**

I probably have the most boring job in existence.

After that scene with Director Fury yesterday Smith came back and handed me my very own official SHIELD folder. Inside was my first ever SHIELD assignment which is—drum roll please!—filing.

Yep! I joined a super duper top secret government agency to be a file clerk! Isn’t that just the best? I can hardly stand the excitement!

But no, seriously. I’m literally on my feet all day going back and forth between the offices on the sixth deck and the file rooms on the same floor. I don’t even have my own desk which, okay, I can understand. I’m a Probationary Agent. Gotta earn my keep and all that but still. Boring as hell.

At least I don’t have to wear heels. Instead I get to wear the standard-issue SHIELD cat suit only mine has badge on the chest that tells the world I’m a Probationary Agent. Maybe it’s so, in case the Helicarrier is attacked, the bad guys will spare me? With my luck I’d be one of the first ones shot.

I still don’t know what they hell that whole thing with Fury was yesterday. Maybe he hoped my mutation would be something more combative? Hell, if it was I wouldn’t be here. I’d be with the X-Men kicking ass and taking names.

I’ve kept my walls up ever since almost getting overwhelmed yesterday. I really need to work on being able to process so many emotions all at once. I should start small and work my way up. I’m going to be on this flying metal basket of lunacy for a while apparently. That should give me plenty of time to get used to large crowds. I’ll start working on it tonight right before I got to bed.

My bunk is tiny. Not as bad as the room I shared with three other girls during my training year but nowhere near as large as the dorm room I had back at Xavier’s. There’s barely room enough for a twin bed, a chest of drawers, a bathroom with only a shower and a toilet, and a small vanity area. It’s not so bad though. I say that mostly because it’s mine, all mine. It’s the first room I’ve had in five years that I don’t have to share which makes it beautiful.


	3. Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 and maybe I'm starting to get a routine?

**Day 3**

So maybe I overreacted about how bad my job is. It’s not so bad when you start to look around. The view isn’t at all unpleasant. And neither is my mandatory hour-long training session in the Helicarrier’s gym. Especially not when the guys are playing shirts and skins. Hot damn they look good. Every single one of them had at least some form of muscle tone on their chests and not a beer belly in sight. I was practically drooling.

I haven’t seen any of my graduating class since that first day. I’m not really complaining. I didn’t get along with any of them except one of my old roommates named Ashley. She wasn’t so bad but she didn’t come to the Helicarrier. She went to a field office in New York, lucky girl. And a little unfair seeing as that office is rumored to be the headquarters for the X-Men liaisons and hello Xavier graduate here. But whatever.

Still, life isn’t so bad on the Helicarrier. Like I said, lots of eye candy which I’m so not complaining about.

The Helicarrier is flying somewhere over the Atlantic right now. It’s open water for as far as they eye can see. If not for the fact that I have a job to do I might fool myself into thinking I’m on some futuristic cruise ship. How cool would that be? Instead of sailing cruise ships would fly? It’d certainly get rid of that whole pesky seasickness thing.

I spent all of today (except for that morning exercise hour) doing more filing. I ate a hasty lunch in the galley then went back to being the errand girl for who I think are the secretaries for Senior Agents. After my shift ended I went back to my room, flipped on the TV hanging on the wall opposite my bed, and started catching up on my shows.


	4. Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 and I'm definitely liking being on the Helicarrier a lot more. Also, Lena is back!

**Day 4**

Something interesting finally happened today!

I was sitting in the galley, peacefully eating my lunch, minding my own business like the good little SHIELD minion I am, when some jack booted thug appeared in front of me. He was handsome, I guess. Thick dark brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin, unbroken nose, straight white teeth. His smile was wrong though. It was too…something. I didn’t like it.

He smiled down at me.

I’d been practicing on not getting overwhelmed by everyone’s emotions so my senses were open to what he was feeling. It felt like oil, oozing against my skin. I suppressed a shudder. Lust, plain and simple. And not the good kind. This was the kind that made my skin crawl.

He leered down at me and said, “Hello. What’s a pretty thing like you sitting over here all by yourself?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I was enjoying my lunch.”

He was a Junior Agent so I expected him to get all huffy about my tone. Instead his smile just got a wider. “I bet I could think of something just an enjoyable.”

I almost gagged.

“If what you are suggesting is as half as enjoyable as you think it is it’d be twice as enjoyable as it actually is,” a cool, Spanish-accented voice said from behind the Agent.

Mr. Tall and Disgusting turned, a snarl on his lips. It died the instant he saw the bronze-skinned, blue-eyed bombshell with the curves of Aphrodite dressed in a pair of skin tight jeans and black tank top standing behind him. His mouth snapped shut with an audible click and his skin went pale beneath his tan.

I grinned and waved. “Hey Lena! Long time no see!”

Magdalena Ramirez, codename Ghost, is SHIELD’s resident Retrieval Specialist. She’s a Cuban ex-patriot who was genetically engineered to have the ability to disappear. She’s the perfect thief. She’s also like the big sister I never had. Back when my I first told my father about my mutation he threw me out. I was thirteen. Yeah he is a jackass (and a drunk) but that’s not the point.

I was wandering around Savannah, Georgia newly homeless and trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do now when she found me outside St. Marks Baptist Church. She was sixteen at the time and newly arrived to the U.S. We banded together and not long after Professor Xavier sent his X-Men to come get us.

Lena didn’t stay long at the school. She’d been trained to be a Cuban operative since before she could remember and already had blood on her hands. She didn’t really fit in with the rest of the students so she only stayed for about a year, just long enough to make sure I was settled in alright, then she left. She visited once a year though and was even there for my graduation. She’s the one who suggested I come work for SHIELD.

Lena returned my smile. “Callie,” she purred, “I’m so happy you’re here.” Then her blue eyes turned to ice and flashed to the Agent who was still standing stock still in front of my table. “Do not proposition a fellow Agent ever again,” she said. He nodded furtively, brown hair flopping into his eyes. “Leave,” she snapped at him.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a normal human move so fast. I raised an eyebrow at Lena as she slid into the seat across from me. “Terrorizing Agents as a hobby?” I asked.

Lena sent me a wicked grin over her plate piled high with a bacon cheeseburger and curly fries. “Got to keep the Baby Agents in line,” she said and popped a fry into her mouth.

I shook my head but didn’t say anything, choosing instead to take another bite of my BLT. When I looked back at Lena she was eyeing me curiously. I swallowed my food. “Yes?”

Lean cocked her head to the side, studying me. “So how are you liking the Helicarrier so far?”

I shrugged. “Not so bad. Different. Very different.”

“Not overwhelmed?” She asked it nonchalantly but I knew what she meant. Was I overwhelmed by being around so many people?

“Not since the first day. I’m working on it and it’s getting better.”

Lena nodded like that was the answer she expected and continued munching away on her bacon cheeseburger.

We chatted over our lunches, mostly about how my basic training year went and what was happening with everyone back at the X-Mansion. She told me the non-classified details about her latest mission to retrieve some information from a secret base in the middle of nowhere—“We didn’t even have deodorant!”—and as we were returning our trays to the lunch servers behind the counter I invited her back to my room after I got off work so we could catch up on Once Upon a Time together.

We parted ways after that, me to back to my glorious job as a file clerk and her to do laundry because apparently where she’d been was hot and her uniform reeked.


	5. Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 and it wasn't a good one.

**Day 5**

Lena handed me my ass this morning in training. She didn’t even go invisible or anything just straight up put me in my place for no other reason than—I quote—“Big sister’s always gonna win, pequeña mariposa.”

I mean, I guess she had a point. After four years of Danger Room sessions at the X-Mansion when I entered Basic I totally kicked all of my classmates' asses and then we got taught new stuff which only made me better so yeah, I get her point and maybe I did brag that I was gonna wipe the floor with her. Never doing that again.

It was hard to be mad at her though, especially when she called me “mariposa”. It’s the name she gave me when we first met. It means “butterfly”. Isn’t that pretty?

After I got my ass handed to me I took a shower because, you know, sweat, and then went to work where I found just the best thing I’ve ever seen on one of the screen that acts as a bulletin board in the hallway near my file closet. It was memo from Director Fury reminding everyone that sexual harassment is not permitted because, not only is it wrong, but any woman/man being harassed more than likely knows ten different ways to cause serious, permanent physical and psychological damage and has complete authority to use them.

I grinned at the sign. I’m pretty sure Lena had something to do with it. She loathes sexual-based harassment. My imagination went into overdrive as I daydreamed all the ways I could incapacitate the creeper from yesterday. Those beautiful fantasies kept me sane when one of the dick-wad secretaries using me as their file go-for started yelling at me for accidentally getting them the wrong file. Not even joking. All he had to do was say calmly, “Hey you got me the wrong file, here’s the one I actually need.” I would have apologized and quickly retrieved the correct file. Easy as eating pie, right? Nope. Instead he went into a ten minute tirade about how stupid someone must be to get the wrong file. The worst part? My walls were down so not only did I get a verbal evisceration but his anger pulsed and burned like red hot iron against my psyche, burning blood red in the air around him.

By the time he was done my hands were shaking. I scurried back to the safety of the file room and, after getting the jackass his file, stayed there for thirty minutes fighting off the desire to vomit. I hate rage. It burns like a bitch and gives me the mother of all migraines.


	6. Day 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 and I think I just met Deputy Director Hill...

**Day 6**

Apparently Lena has the same prestige here on the SHIELD Helicarrier as the Black Widow and Hawkeye. It was surprising really. This morning before our training session one of the Senior Agents came up to me while I was waiting for Lena to arrive. She was pretty with straight brown hair, big brown eyes, and barely tanned pale skin. There was a hardness about her, a sharpness to her expression. It was like talking to a high school principle. I don’t think anything escapes her notice. My walls were up so I didn’t know what she was feeling but the way she looked me up and down with a completely blank face made me feel like I’d done something wrong.

“You are friends with Agent Ramirez?” she asked.

I swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, ma’m.”

She looked me up and down again. “She doesn’t normally make friends outside of the Elite Operatives Team.”

I shifted on my feet nervously. “We grew up together.”

“Grew up together?” the woman prompted.

I nodded. “Yes ma’m. She saved me when we were kids. I consider her family.”

The Agent nodded once and I think she was about to say something else when Lena arrived. Lena walked up to us. The Agent nodded to Lena and left without another word.

Lena watched the other woman go with wary blue eyes. When she was gone from sight Lena turned back to me, a frown drawing her perfectly shaped eyebrows together. “What did Hill want?” she asked.

My jaw dropped. “That was Deputy Director Hill?!” I squeaked.

Lena rolled her eyes. “Yes. What did she want?”

I swallowed. “She—uh, she just wanted to know how I knew you.”

Lena’s frown deepened but she didn’t say anything. Instead she pulled her thick mocha-brown hair up into a ponytail. “Vamonos,” she said.

I followed her out onto the mat, putting my own mass of light brown curls into a tight ponytail and trying to understand why the Deputy Director of SHIELD wanted to talk to me of all people. Didn’t make any sense to me. I’m only a Probie, just starting out. The only special thing about me is my mutation and even then I can’t really do anything with it. It’s not like I’m a telepath and know what people are feeling about what—not unless I’m touching them that is. That’s why I usually wear gloves or pay special attention to who I touch and where. Xavier made it a point to practically hammer it into my morality how bad it would be for me to invade someone else’s privacy by purposefully touching them to know what they were feeling.

And I don’t understand why Lena didn’t seem to like that Deputy Director Hill was interested in me. I’m not sure I like that Hill was interested in me but that’s beside the point. Lena’s always been protective I just hope she doesn’t do anything that’ll get her in trouble.


	7. Day 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 and holy shit I think I just played MarioKart with the scariest woman alive.

**Day 7**

Today was my first day off.

When I imagined finally getting a day off the fantasy usually revolved around sleeping till at least 10, popcorn and a TV marathon. Instead, I was woken up at 9 (the SHIELD version of sleeping in) to pounding on my door. When I stumbled to the door and opened it, dressed in a pair of girlified boxers and a white tank top, I was greeted with the annoying, ridiculously chipper smile of Lena.

I swear, the girl does not know the meaning of sleep.

I made incoherent groaning noises at her that did a pretty decent job conveying how unhappy I was to see her. She ignored them.

“Get dressed,” she told me, practically bouncing on her toes.

“Why?”

“I’ve booked us the rec room on level 4 for the day.”

I rubbed my eyes. “Why?”

Lena shrugged. “I want to introduce you to my friends.”

“You have friends?”

Lena glowered. “Hardy har har. Now get dressed or I’m dragging your ass up there in your PJs.”

“No need to get violent.” I stepped back to let her in. Lena pranced inside and flopped down on my bed, still grinning that stupid grin of hers, perfect white teeth flashing against bronze skin. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that she was trained since she could walk to be the perfect Cuban asset and then, at sixteen, she told her handlers to fuck themselves and ran, especially when she looks like she’s on a sugar high.

“How much Cinnamon Toast Crunch did you have this morning?” I asked as I pulled out my favorite pair of dark skinny.

Lena shrugged. “Dunno, couple of bowls. Why?”

“You’re sugar high.”

“Am not!” Lena huffed.

I rolled my eyes. “Are too.”

Lena crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air. “Am not!” she muttered indignantly.

I ignored her. I’m pretty sure part of her brain chemistry is she’s particularly susceptible to hyperactivity. Xavier would probably know more but neither of us asked so he didn’t tell.

I dressed quickly in jeans, a loose dark yellow tank top with the Hufflepuff badger on it, and light brown leather boots. I forewent makeup mostly because I’m a lazy person and not ten minutes after Lena had so rudely woken me up I was following her through the Helicarrier to level 4.

There’s a small rec room on every level of the Helicarrier except for the ones reserved for the science labs. Apparently the scientists didn’t want to waste the space. Each rec room is a little different. The one on deck 4 has a huge big screen TV, a PlayStation, a Wii, and an Xbox game systems along with a lot of games. There were also some very comfy looking couches.

Lena and I claimed the center couch facing the TV which was already queued up with Mario Kart. God bless Lena.

We did a world cup and were about to start up another game when the rec room’s door opened behind us. I turned.

Two people entered, one man one woman, both dressed in casual clothes rather than the standard-issue SHIELD catsuit. I gulped. The woman had flame-red curls. I only knew of one person on the Helicarrier who had hair that red.

Lena jumped to her feet. “Nat! Clint! There you are!”

“You know the Black Widow and Hawkeye!” I hissed through a nervous smile towards the two scariest assets SHIELD had.

“Lena,” Black Widow greeted my big sister. Clint flashed a smile at her.

“Guys, this is Callie Marks,” Lena said, still grinning as she gestured to me.

I stood, biting back the nervous babble threatening to projectile vomit out of my mouth. I managed a weak, “Hi,” and hand wave.

Clint, a wicked glint in his pale blue eyes, sauntered up to me and stuck out his hand. I took it, feeling the rough calluses on his fingers and palm. “So you’re Lena’s little butterfly,” he said, not releasing my hand as he looked me up and down.

His emotions were not tightly controlled here in this place he felt safe. I reached out with my psyche, probing until I felt what I was looking for. Approval. He approved of me, for whatever reason. With that knowledge I returned his smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Agent Barton.”

“Please, it’s just Clint,” he said still with that same grin and he hadn’t released my hand.

“No flirting with her, Barton,” Lena said, walking up to his, the famous Black Widow at her side.

Clint immediately let go and turned eyes that were too wide and way too innocent to be real on his partners. “I have no idea what you mean,” he said.

The corner of Black Widow’s mouth twitched. She really was a stunning woman with hair and lips the color of blood—probably colored by the blood of her enemies—and smooth, pale skin. It wasn’t hard to imagine her kicking some major ass.

She nodded to me in greeting and I didn’t even bother trying to read her emotions. I didn’t need to. There was no way in hell that woman had anything but perfect control over every aspect of herself.

We spent the next three hours playing Mario Kart. Now, let me tell you a thing. Clint Barton is a horrible loser. It took him forever to figure out how to get Luigi (his character) to move and when he finally managed it he did the whole course backwards just to piss us all off. He also cackles. Manically.

Natasha—she said I could call her Natasha! I’m a total fangirl now—consistently came in either first or second place, only being beaten by Lena who has had years to perfect her Mario Kart game. When it was time for lunch Natasha intimidated a Junior Agent who was passing our rec room into getting us two large pizzas and we put in The Mummy. That started a marathon of not-so-scary movies which included Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds, Gremlins, and Beetle Juice.

Basically it was the most awesome way to spend my first day off on this metal Hindenburg. I haven't had so much fun since I let Xavier’s.


	8. Day 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 and I hate Director Fury.

**Day 8**

Fuck Fury.

Fuck him to the Seventh Ring of Hell.

Seriously.


	9. Day 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9 and I'm getting my ass kicked off the Helicarrier.

**Day 9**

I’ve barely been on this stupid flying death trap for a week and already I’m getting my ass kicked off.

Apparently Fury has been trying to think of something that would properly use my talents. He’s been steaming about it all week and now, after I’ve finally gotten comfortable in my new job, he yanks me out and kicks me off the Helicarrier!

He called me into his office yesterday morning. The Agent who came to get me was a Probie like me and looked torn between being scared shitless of Fury and jealous that I was the one being summoned. Yeah. Well, I’d switch places with him any day.

When I entered Fury’s office the man himself was sitting behind his state-of-the-art desk glowering at the tablet he held in his hands. I paused just inside his office and waited. I felt a bit like a gazelle poised to run in case the lion should decide to lunge.

“Don’t just sit there,” he barked. “Sit.”

Gingerly, I took a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs across from him, glancing around the office. It was sparsely furnished, nothing personal in sight. It was exactly like I’d expected, well, minus the bloody instruments of torture hanging on the walls. I perched on the edge of the chair and tried to come up with some sort of reason I had been summoned. I hadn’t messed up at all this past week. I’d been a good girl, kept my head down, did as I was told. There was no reason I could see for Director Fury to ask for me specifically.

Finally Fury set his tablet down and fixed with me that one, black eye of his. His eye was so black that I’m pretty sure every secret in the known world could hide in there and never be found, like a blackhole. It made my insides shake, that eye.

“You are going to be reassigned,” he said.

“What?” Panic bloomed in my chest. I like the Helicarrier for all I say it’s a death trap! I like working here! Lena’s here! I just met/became sort-of friends with Black Widow and Hawkeye!

Fury’s scowl darkened if that was possible. I gulped. “Uh wh-what I mean, sir, is, um, why am I being reassigned?”

“You are being reassigned because you are unique and I believe your talents are better spent being something other than a glorified message runner.” He paused, still looking at me, waiting for me to say something. When I didn’t he continued, “You will be going undercover as an intern at a SHIELD-funded research base. Your job is to make yourself into the best possible target for kidnapping.”

My mouth dropped open. “You want me to be professional bait?” I squeaked.

Fury nodded. “Yes. Lena has informed me you have a unique talent for not panicking in tricky situations. Your job will be to employ that talent while being held as a hostage. You will also need to manipulate your captors into revealing their plan. Once that is done you will be retrieved.”

“Retrieved?” Now I was hopeful.

“Agent Ramirez will retrieve you and plant trackers so we can follow your captors back to their bosses.”

I took a deep breath. Lena would be the one to rescue me. That made me feel a lot better about this whole ordeal. If Lena was involved then everything would be okay. Yeah, I’ve got more faith in my sister than most people but they don't know her like I do. She might be more than a little unhinged, our adoptive mom once called her twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag, but I trust her more than I trust anyone else in the world. “Alright. Should I go pack my bags?”

“You will not be taking any of your personal belongings with you on your assignment.”

I nearly growled at that. Why the hell could I not bring personal belongings? What kind of shit rule is that? Not even my diary?! Fuck Fury! Not only is he sending me off to only God knew where to be bait but I couldn’t bring anything? Bullshit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag" is paraphrased from the first episode of the TV show Leverage when Eliot describes Parker, the character upon whom Lena is based.


	10. Day 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10 and I'm being shipped to a frozen wasteland.

**Day 10**

I have officially been reassigned to a SHIELD Research & Development Base in the middle of fucking nowhere. Not even joking. I’m going to fucking Siberia. This is the place the Russians sent people to punish them. This is the place the Russians think is bad. _Russians_.

I’m going to end up with frostbite I just know it.

Apparently there has been intel. saying some super-secret faction of bad guys has been thinking about kidnapping a scientist (they haven’t been able to decide on who, apparently) from the facility and interrogating them. My new job is to make myself seem like the best possible candidate for kidnap.

Earlier today I went to the Helicarrier infirmary to have a handy dandy brand spanking new tracker implanted under my skin. They inserted the tracker kind of like you’d chip your dog only my chip went under my left arm just to the side of my boob. I can activate it by pressing on the area. It’ll read my fingerprint and then when I feel it pulse I’ll know that it’s on. I can’t activate it before I’m kidnapped though because it’s likely they’ll scan me for trackers and without anesthetic removing this thing would hurt like a bitch.

A large duffle was delivered to my room after I was done with the needle wielders. Inside was everything I would need for my adventure to the frozen ring of Hell, including a bright orange parka. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything uglier in my entire life and that includes the Wolverine before his daily liter of black coffee.

I collapsed onto my bed and tried not to let my imagination run wild.

I don’t know about you but for me personally being told that sometime in the near future I’ll be kidnapped is more than just a little bit terrifying. I mean, yeah, I aced the kidnap victim part of my training but that was a class in how to get away from my kidnappers, not make myself into the best kidnap victim available.

I could feel the panic rise the more I thought about it. If I didn’t get a hold of my emotions soon I wouldn’t be able to function. Already my hands were shaking uncontrollably. Chills raced up my spine. My mouth had gone dry. I closed my eyes.

It was dark behind my eyelids and I used that, focused on it, taking deep shuddering breaths. There was a switch in my mind, if only I could reach it. I imagined it was like a power switch, one of the big ones you find in old electric plants. Right now it was in the on position. I reached for the handle with my psyche. The thing was heavy. I put all of my mental weight onto it. I hadn’t done this in so long there was rust on the hinges. The metal groaned, rust flakes broke away. With one final heave the switch came loose and slammed to off.

The pressure in my head vanished. I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The panic was gone. All that was left was clear thoughts. I felt no emotions, mine or others. I breathed in deep. It was strangely freeing to turn off both my empathic ability and my emotions.

I sat up from my bed. The duffle was still on the floor where I’d left it. I repacked the supplies I had removed and zipped it closed. Lena would be waking me up the next morning at 0500. I needed to sleep.


	11. Day 183

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 183 and I'm finally back on the Helicarrier

**Day 183**

I have been in Siberia for the past six months. For the majority of that time I have been in the hands of jackbooted thugs from the anti-SHIELD. I have new scars and a new-found dislike for cramped spaces.

That first morning Lena came to collect me from my bunk she tried to smile. It was a little shaky, enough so that I knew she did not like sending me into a purposefully dangerous situation. When I didn't comment on the obviously fake smile she frowned and took a closer look at my face. "You turned them off," she said after a pause.

I nodded. "Yes."

The muscles in Lena's jaw jumped. She doesn't like it when I flip the switch, says the fire in me dies and she fears that one day it might never brighten my eyes again. I believe her fear, while not unreasonable, to be unfounded. Without another word she turned and I followed her out the door, turning and closing it behind me; the duffel of supplies I had been issued was already slung over my shoulder.

Lena lead me through the Helicarrier out onto the flight deck where a Quinjet was waiting for us. I had chosen to wear civvies this morning and let my hair down from the SHIELD regulation bun and my black leather jacket protected me better from the blast of wind that tangled my hair in front of my face than I had expected.

Lena and I sat side by side in the Quinjet but she would not look at me. Her jaw was set and she had pulled a small throwing knife from one of the sheaths hidden all over her body. I briefly wondered if, now that I was a part of SHIELD, she would teach me how to use her knives. I quickly discarded the idea. Now was not the time to think of other things to do. Now was the time to figure out who I was going to be for this mission. My C.O. had debriefed me after Fury had dismissed me from his office. I would be posing as an intern at the SHIELD-funded laboratory. As I was to be a fresh-faced, brand new recruit for the nerd herd I didn't actually know what kind of research the laboratory was involved in but I suspected it was nuclear.

The ride in the Quinjet only took an hour and a half and before I knew it we had landed. Thanks to the expert pilots the landing was reasonably gentle. Lena hadn't spoken a word the entire ride but now she turned to me. "Remember to be careful," she said.

I suspected that had I been able I would have felt irritated that she thought I didn't remember our mutually agreed upon Number 1 Rule: Always come back alive. As it was, I simply nodded. Lena's eyes, twins chips of cobalt ice, studied me carefully but either she did not or did find what she was looking for because she nodded and stood, pulling on the thick black parka she kept on her lap during the flight. I copied her, slipping the orange monstrosity I had been issued by the quartermaster over my leather jacket, then bent down to pick up my duffle bag which I had stored under my seat.

I flung the large black canvas bag over my shoulder and looked around. The pilot and copilot were still in their seats. The copilot, noticing we were standing, reached for a small switch on the cockpit's control panel and flipped it. Almost instantly the whir of hydraulics filled the air and the jet's gangplank began to lower. Icy wind blasted in through the newly opened gangplank. I braced myself against the ridiculous cold.

When we got past all the base's security—there was a lot—we were greeted by some very nerdy looking men in white lab coats, all of whom pretty much fitted the cliché of sun-deprived mad scientist. They welcomed us to their humble research facility then handed us off to a pair of lab assistants who showed us to the room I would call my own while I was there. As none of them knew I was an undercover operative they treated me exactly like the lab intern I was posing as. That meant that my new room was the size of a supply closet.

I settled into my new home, said goodbye to Lena and three weeks of mind numbingly _boring_ science later the plan worked and I was kidnapped.

It didn't happen quite like I expected. For one, they grabbed me in bright daylight, or what passes for daylight in Siberia. They came at exactly noon while I was on my way to the cafeteria, slipping past security so easily I am sure there is a mole. One minute I was walking along one of the hallways daydreaming of the bacon cheeseburger that was to be my lunch, the next I felt a sharp prick on the back of my neck, two goons in body armor grabbed my arms, and the world went black.

I woke up in a cell barely big enough for me to walk a circle in. I also had to hunch over if I wanted to stand. I immediately activated the tracker; it pulsed softly under my skin and I knew the signal was sending.

The whole being kidnapped thing started off simple enough. They left me in my cage with only water and no food for a while, I’m not really sure how long. Finally, the door set into one of the walls opened. Two men in black stood in the doorway. I backed into the corner; I had to act scared. I flipped the switch.

I was flooded. Every emotion I had kept at bay surged through me. My knees shook. Tears spilled from my eyes. I couldn't breathe.

The men grabbed me. I screamed, sobbing, hot tears leaving tracks down my face that burned. Their hands hurt. They gripped me so hard they left bruises but they were touching my skin with their bare hands. I metaphysically shoved everything at them, my panic, my fear, my anger. One man flinched. I saw him. He flinched but recovered quickly, adjusting his grip on my arm. I shoved harder. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

They dragged me from my cell. I was shaking so badly they had to help support me down the hall, half carrying me through a door at the end; halfway down the next hall they stopped. One of them released his death grip on my arm and opened the door on the left.

They shoved my inside. I stumbled, dropping to one knee. “Get up!” the man who had flinched barked.

I staggered to my feet, pushing my loose, matted hair out of my face. The room was bare except for a metal chair placed directly in the center of the concrete floor, larger than my cell, and dimly lit by a single, bare light bulb swaying from the ceiling. I was torn between laughing and crying; this was a B-movie interrogation room.

The metal chair was cold but I collapsed into it; my legs couldn’t support me very well. The two thugs left and I sat there, shaking from fear and cold. My head spun, my walls completely gone. I could feel every emotion, every twisted desire of every last human in a five mile radius. I wanted to scream.

I don’t know how long I sat there. It could have been hours or maybe even days. I was so thoroughly trapped in my own mind I couldn’t tell. Whatever drug they had used to knock me out had scrambled my brain. My head hurt and I had to rebuild my walls all over again which took concentration and patience, neither of which I had in abundance at that moment.

The door opened. I flinched at the sound. Then a man in a white lab coat came in and I couldn't help myself, half hysterical as I was. I snorted.

The man raised an eyebrow. “Something funny?”

If not for the look of disgust the stranger would have been handsome. He was roughly in his mid-forties, blond hair slightly curled, and his eyes were a pretty brown behind a pair of wire rimmed glasses. “Yeah,” I said, my voice a croak.

“Care to share with the class?”

I smiled weakly up at him. “You’re such a cliché,” I said.

The stranger scowled, a muscle in his jaw jumped, but he didn’t say anything, instead he flipped through the tan folder he was holding. I was forcibly reminded of the interrogations from cop dramas only the interrogators in cop dramas didn’t have two goons bring in a long metal table and then spend thirty minutes carefully laying out viscous-looking metal instruments that I knew I didn’t want anywhere near me.

I thanked God that he didn’t pick one of the pliers gleaming under the uncovered bulb. Instead, after messing with his devices of pain, he left them and approached me empty handed. He stopped just to my left and his hand reached out, forefinger brushing against my cheek. “What a lovely face you have,” he said.

I was too stunned to move. I couldn’t believe he had just pulled the oldest trick in the guide on how to be as creepy as an evil villain can possibly be. How was that even a viable suggestion in their manual?

His finger moved to brush the other cheek and I unfroze. Just as with the guards, the moment his exposed skin touched mine I shoved the entirety of my emotions at him, especially my fear. I wanted him to feel fear. I willed him to understand, to take my fear and believe it to be his own and to know that it was caused by being taken from his home against his will. His smile faltered. He quickly withdrew his hand.

“We’ll continue this another time, shall we?” he said, beating a hasty retreat from the room rubbing his fingers, especially the finger he had used to touch me.

I glared daggers at his back until he was out of sight. Once he was gone the two goons who had brought me there came back. They escorted me to my cell in much the same manner they had escorted me to the interrogation room and just like before I pushed my emotions into them. Neither of them flinched that time but their grips were markedly gentler.

It was the same routine the next day and the next and one after that. It was a seemingly never ending, irregular cycle. Day in, day out. Be hauled from my cell to the interrogation room, be questioned by the walking cliche, be sent back to my cell, eat, repeat. Sometimes I would babble, beg to be released, other day I sat silent as a stone while the interrogator talked, but every day, with every touch I fed him the desire to talk, to brag. I poked and prodded and with each passing day he told me a little more. I memorized everything he said as best I could and when I felt like I had learned all I could I turned my tracker on and off five times.

When SHIELD plans a rescue they don’t send in the B Team, or maybe that was because Lena refused to take a backseat when it came to my rescue. Whatever the case, I was woken up not long after I’d gone to sleep by the pop-pop-pop of gunfire and then my door was swung open and Lena popped her head in. I scrambled to knees.

“Damn,” she said, blue eyes sparkling as she looked around my cramped cell, “you should really consider getting an interior decorator.”

I scowled at her. “Just get me out of here.”

Lena’s grin broadened, white teeth flashing against bronze skin. “Aye, aye, mi capitana!”

We left the underground bunker in which I had been kept and made a mad dash for the Quinjet waiting for us. The rest of the SHIELD black ops team met us there and we all piled in. I scrambled for one of the seats and Lena strapped in next to me, still wearing that stupid grin of hers.

The adrenaline was beginning to wear off. My hands had started shaking and I was grateful that I’d already strapped myself in.

My rescue team was talking quietly amongst themselves but Lena was mercifully silent which I know must have been hard for her. My limbs were growing heavy. My neck was suddenly too weak to support my head and I leaned on Lena’s shoulder, grateful to be someplace where I wouldn’t be woken up in the middle of the night just because some psycho was bored and wanted to talk. I eyelids drooped.


	12. Day 187

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 187 and maybe becoming a super secret agent wasn't such a good idea.

**Day 187**

I don’t know why I took this job with this super top secret spy agency. It was absolutely ridiculous to think that I could live with the things I know this agency does, with what I’ve lived through these past six months.

I haven’t been sleeping. I keep having nightmares. Blood and pain. What could have happened. What should have happened. He had sharp metal instruments. He wanted to use them on me, I know he did. I’ve woken up in a sweat, hair plastered to the back of my neck. I go to the gym and work over a punching bag. I’m never the only one in there. Some people are in the middle of their days while I’m sleeping, right in the middle of their six-hour shifts. Six hours because SHIELD hates for its operatives to be tired and 12 hour shifts are apparently too long.

By the time I finish beating the shit out of a punching bag I’m so tired I can barely stand. I usually go back to my room and collapse in my bed, sleeping until my alarm goes off for my shift.

Since I’ve been back I’ve spent most of my time going over the intel I gathered while being held hostage and the information the computer hackers have stolen using the Trojan horse Lena installed in the bad guys’ computer network. The techies truly are amazing at what they do. Probie Agent Olivia Gibson is nice. She’s from the Communications Academy, a recent arrival to the Helicarrier, and smart, like oh-my-God-she-could-rule-the-world-from-behind-a-computer smart. I don’t know why she didn’t go into the private sector.

I have filled out mission reports in triplicate since being back. Lena also insisted we celebrate my birthday since I spent it in the clutches of a sociopathic wackjob. All we did was curl up on Lena’s bed and have a Rom Com marathon complete with ice cream and pizza Lena scared a Probie into getting for us.


	13. Day 200

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 200 and I've been reassigned...again.

**Day 200**

I don’t think Director Fury knows what to do with me.

After I finished writing all my mission reports and collaborating with Agent Olivia Gibson I was reassigned to the secretarial pool. A couple days later I got new orders to report to the Helicarrier's chemistry lab as an assistant.

There might have been a small explosion 3 hours into my tenure that was so _not_ my fault no matter what Dr. Malrick says.

My new title is Junior Undersecretary to SHIELD Special Agent Phil Coulson.

Don’t ask me what that means cause I haven’t got a clue.


	14. Day 204

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 204 and apparently Deadpool can get onto the Helicarrier whenever he wants.

 

**Day 204**

I found a handmade book entitled _SHIELD Recruit Survival Tips_ on my desk this morning. There was a hot pink sticky note with the words “You’ll understand eventually, Emo” in an untidy scrawl. It took everything I had not to groan. Only one person I know who calls me Emo. Apparently Wade Wilson can get onto the Helicarrier whenever he likes.

I met Wade when he visited Xavier’s one day when I was fifteen. Well, I guess technically he was visiting Cora, the woman who adopted me and Lena when the X-Men brought us in and is the X Mansion’s housekeeper. She’s also a feral mutant who’s lived for I don’t know how long and apparently she and Wade go way back. Xavier doesn’t like it when Wade visits though so he usually just sneaks in. I think Xavier’s distaste for him has something to d with the fact that Wade is also the mercenary named Deadpool. Yeah, I’m not brave (or stupid) enough to ask how Cora knows Deadpool.

I flipped through the book and half the names I don’t recognize but Clint is mentioned. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a tumblr blog where I got the idea for Wade's present. It's amazing and I'm drawing so much inspiration from it its not even funny. 
> 
> Link:  
>  **[Shield Recruit Survival Tips](http://shieldrecruitsurvivaltips.tumblr.com/)**


	15. Day 207

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 207 and my new boss is terrifying.

**Day 207**

SHIELD Senior Special Agent Phillip J. Coulson is both the most terrifyingly efficient man I have ever met and the most forgetful. The reason everyone has to fill out forms in triplicate is so that he can lose one, accidently throw away the second, and hand over the third to his secretaries for safe keeping. He is an incredibly annoying contradiction and when I told Agent Donahue, his Senior Assistant, as much the burly Irishman laughed.

“That’s what he has us for,” Donahue told me.

All I could do was grumble at that one and pick the newest stack of forms I had to sort through. Seriously, SHIELD generates more paper in one month than a paper mill does in a year.


	16. Day 243

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 243 and Fury really needs to stop moving me around like a goddamn hot potato.

**Day 243**

I was given another undercover assignment last week. To a college campus. To Culver University to be precise. They wanted me to scope out an astrophysicist whose research involved some pretty interesting stuff regarding wormholes and black holes. SHIELD placed me in the Astronomy for Beginners class she was supposedly teaching. In reality her TA was doing all the work. It’s such a low-key assignment they let me bring my own clothes and even this diary.

While I’m here SHIELD has put me up in this crappy little studio apartment above this neat little coffee shop like I’m a real student instead of a covert operative for a shady government agency. It’s really cool! Best part? NO KIDNAPPING.

The fact that I am ridiculously happy about not getting kidnapped is kind of sad. That getting kidnapped has become a normal part of my life is just…it makes me question my life choices, you know?

I met a really cool girl at the coffee shop on Tuesday. A real bodacious beauty with curves and absolutely gorgeous brown curls and black rimmed glasses. I’ve always wanted to wear glasses if only because I think they’d look cool. Her name is Darcy Lewis and she’s in my Astronomy for Beginners class. We hit it off and exchanged phone numbers. We have plans to meet up on Saturday so can show me around the city since I’ve never been here and she’s a native.


	17. Day 303

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 303 and this assignment is almost over.

**Day 303**

The semester is finally ending. My last field report has been submitted to Coulson. My assessment is that while Dr. Foster’s work is interesting it is not quite ready for SHIELD involvement just yet but that it would be prudent to keep an eye on her.

I’m going to miss Darcy. She’s more than a little awesome. She was basically my personal guide to college life, made a point of including me in her group of friends. I hated lying to her about my purpose at Culver. I hated even more having to tell her that I was leaving.

We’re going to have a _Lord of the Rings_ marathon as my going-away party. We’re going to order pizza and pop popcorn and eat more junk food than I’ve consumed in my entire life. When I get back to the Helicarrier Lena is going to eat me alive for being so unhealthy. I can’t wait.

There’s going to be booze at my going-away party. I’m probably not going to have any. I hope they don’t think that’s too weird. I just don’t know what will happen if I mix my empathy and alcohol. I’ve kept my walls up ever since being here, the heavy duty ones I cultivated when I was very young and living with that raging, abusive drunk who donated half my DNA. I haven’t really used them since I started at Xavier’s but I brought them out for this assignment. They’ve been exactly what I needed. I’ve only gotten the ghosts of emotions. Adding alcohol will probably ruin my control. Best to avoid it until I’m in a safe, controlled environment better suited to experimenting. Besides, I’m only nineteen. There’s no rush for me to start drinking just yet.


End file.
